


Of Pickleball (and Other Miscellaneous Leisure Activities)

by silver_fish



Category: Death Note
Genre: Crack, M/M, pickleball au, will add characters as they appear!, written seriously but crack nonetheless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 07:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10355772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_fish/pseuds/silver_fish
Summary: The year after retiring from the professional tennis scene, Light is finally able to meet the once most esteemed tennis player in the world, L Lawliet, on the courts. But tennis is a tired practice, and so L introduces Light to a new phenomenon called pickleball.Let's just say itcould'vegone better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is only half a crack fic. the au itself kind of grants itself to the title of "crack fic", but the intention with this fic has always been pretty much 100% serious. my friends and i concocted this Thing in gym class while we playing, believe it or not, pickleball. the innuendos are endless, for one, and for two it's actually kind of an enjoyable game, and it was made genuinely enjoyable as soon as one of us uttered the words "death note au where l and light play pickleball instead of tennis."
> 
> this fic won't be a beast or anything, but if it ends up being less than 75k, i'll be disappointed in myself.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L makes some propositions, Light goes along with it, and Sayu questions the intent of it all.

Light knows three things about himself:

One, he hates to lose.

Two, he is currently losing. _Badly_.

It had started out really rather pleasantly. L, English tennis champ and Light’s frequent practice partner now that they both have permanent residence in Japan and no longer compete at ay level other than in “friendly” games with one another once a month or so, had suggested they try something _new_ . And, okay, Light is mature enough to admit that he, too, is getting bored with tennis, but, all in all, any game with a name as obscure as _pickleball_ cannot be good.

The third thing he knows about himself is that he is never wrong. His initial impression of L’s suggestion, that being that it sounds absolutely _appalling_ , has not, in any way, been changed by actually _playing_ the game.

The rules are not that difficult, really, though it’s more like badminton than tennis. The ball is small, the paddle is small, the _net_ is small (or, low, really), and, overall, it is a terrible experience.

So, of course, Light is disappointed to realize that he rather _likes_ the stupid game, even as L completely destroys him on the court.

It takes a despairingly short time for L to win, with an even more despairing eleven points to Light’s three. Light does his best to smile, anyway, because it is, of course, only right that he should. He may be a sore loser, but he isn’t going to _act_ like one.

“Light-kun needs more practice,” L reflects as Light makes his way to the other side of the court.

Light tries very hard not to scowl, and definitely succeeds. “Of course,” he says, shrugging. “I’ve never played before.”

L doesn’t seem to care for such an excuse. He says, “We’ll do it again next week.”

“What?” Light shakes his head. “Isn’t that a little much at this point? Shouldn’t you at least give me some time to figure out what I’m doing?”

L doesn’t even _consider_ it. “Light-kun will research the rules before then,” he decides immediately. “As for the rest, the game is too unpopular to find practice with anybody else.”

Light bristles. “What if I don’t want to?” he challenges, but he and L both know full-well that there is no way he doesn’t want to. He will keep playing until he wins, and then he will keep playing in order to keep winning. He’s already proficient enough at tennis to know that those skills won’t go away by taking a break from the game for a while. And, besides, L is the only person he likes to play with anymore, so as long as they are both playing this stupid pickleball game together, there’s not really any danger in it.

L doesn’t even bother to respond. With his things all packed, he stands and makes his way to the court entrance. “Have a good day, Light-kun,” he calls back, and Light cannot respond, because he is absolutely _bristling_.

He curses his own predictability as he goes to gather his own things. Of course, L is probably just trying to tip the scales. And more than tipping them, it is as if he’s sat on one side very heavily. While holding a few hundred pounds’ worth of weights. Light never stood a chance.

Damn him. Now they’re going to be stuck in an infinite loop of pickleball, and while it’s a welcome change, Light does not appreciate the obviously malicious intent in which L has brought this forward.

He thinks about it all the way home. L had stopped playing tennis as a professional three years ago. The last season had been Light’s last. L had stopped because he had hit his peak and was no longer improving. Light had stopped because…well, because it didn’t feel worth it anymore. He was no longer in school—could hardly be considered employed—and was playing tennis as if it had held all the answers. So, obviously, he stopped, because… Well, really, he has no good reason. He’s not even searching for something solid at this point. Since playing tennis on an international level since he was nineteen years old meant he was never home, he had never lived in his own place. Now, at twenty-four, he’s still living with his parents, and they are far from pleased with it.

It is, of course, necessary until he can decide what he wants to do. He’d once wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, but had changed his mind somewhere around sixteen years old in order to focus fully on tennis. And while his parents hadn’t liked it, they’d been supportive enough. He thinks they would rather he play tennis for a living than risk his life in the police force, anyway.

But he’s not doing _either_ of those things. In fact, he’s not really doing anything. He works at a café near the tennis courts that he and L play at. L frequents the café, but Light can see the appeal beyond his working there. The area is convenient, and they have good sweets. Overall, there’s probably no better café for L to hang around in.

Not that he cares, of course. L can do what he wants. Light sometimes thinks L has less direction in his life than he does, which is really saying something. They’re cut from a similar cloth, really: L had been working to become a detective, had almost made it, and then made his debut as a pro tennis player, ascended to one of the top in the world, and then mysteriously disappeared from the sport entirely three years ago. Since then, he’s neither gone back to playing professionally nor has he returned to any kind of work. Not that he would have to, of course, with how much money he has from being so high-up in the sport. Light’s fairly well-off, too, but his career never quite took off like L’s did.

Light thinks their differences lie in motivations. He doesn’t _know_ what L does all the time. He’s not sure he would want to. A sweets-driven insomniac with no obvious hobbies outside of tormenting the only person in the world he plays tennis against sounds like a very long way to say that he must be, at least partially, insane.

Light, for his part, works so he _doesn’t_ go insane. It’s not about money, and it’s not about _extra money_ , although he will admit that his finances are extremely important to him. He could live on his own, too, but his parents haven’t asked him to yet, and as long as Sayu’s still in college, he’s not the only one. Besides, all those years he spent away from his family need to be made up, somehow.

Not to mention, he’s never _actually_ lived alone. He’s never stayed alone _anywhere_. He can think of very few times in which he was not accompanied by a teammate or coach throughout his entire tennis career. It’s not as if he dislikes being alone—quite the opposite, really—but it would be a strange change, and he feels rather lost, as it is. He doesn’t really want to make that feeling any worse than it already is.

When he gets home, it’s to a weak greeting by his mother and sister as they watch a TV program together that he certainly has no interest in. Not that he a lot of interests to begin with, but he has one thing to do for this week, at least.

The nice thing about having so much time on his hands these days is that when something like this comes up, he’s able to put himself into it completely. His entire life’s goal, at this point, is pretty much just to beat L. It had taken him a while to surpass him in tennis—the year after L retired, Light began to reach the peak of his career, so they had never played against each other until they both moved to Japan, no matter how much Light had wanted to—and even now it’s not exactly that he’s “surpassed” L so much as they now play on mostly even ground. It’s still cheap, though, because Light _sees_ the way L eats and how absolutely terrible he is at sleeping, and he’s sure L can’t have taken such awful care of himself as a pro, when nutritionists were probably paying _him_ to work on his diet, so Light beating him doesn’t always feel quite as great as he’s sure it _could_.

But, clearly, they aren’t playing tennis anymore.

Once he’s in his room, he’s quick to open his computer to look up the rules of pickleball. He’s _agitated_ , really. And looking through the rules, he’s even more so. The bounce rule? That’s unnecessarily complicated for such a simplistic-looking game. The rules aren’t otherwise too complicated—win by two, play to eleven, points can only be scored by the serving team… These are all things L explained before. He’d explained the fact that there was a bounce rule, too, but he’d not explained it in depth and instead said it was okay if they played without that until Light was willing.

A little further reading shows him that it was created in America, that it is mostly _played_ in America, that, all in all, there isn’t any reasonable explanation as to how L knows all the rules.

He would ask, of course, but whatever relationship they have is strictly tennis-based—and Light serving L at the café, but he’s not entirely sure that counts. Obviously, he’s thought about if they’re friends or not, but perhaps it is more along the lines of “friendly rivals.” Although…

They’re friendly rivals in the world of tennis. This… is not tennis. It’s not even really that close to it.

He pauses. Perhaps he’s overthinking the entire thing. But, still, he’s unsure of L’s motive besides seeing him make a fool of himself at a sport he has no idea how to play. He’s sure there could realistically could be a _better_ reason, but, also, this is _L_ , so even if there was a better, explainable reason, that wouldn’t be the one that L would use, because, well, he’s L.

Light sighs and shuts his computer down. He has a week to come up with a way to beat L at his literal own game, so for now, he’s just going to have to let it rest until he has the motivation. Right now, he’s very much lacking in that. In all fairness, he doesn’t have much of that ever anymore. His only goal in life right now is to beat L, but by now he doesn’t care enough about winning the first time when they pretty much all the time in the world to beat him later.

He lies on his bed and stares up at the ceiling. All the time in the world… Yeah, he’ll figure it out later. Perhaps he should just leave it completely and give L a false sense of security. After all, the best way to win is by subtle manipulation, right?

Well, if there is anything Light knows about himself, it is this: he is always right.

He doesn’t feel so bad about leaving everything untouched for the remainder of the week.

\---

The next day, L comes into the café right at the end of Light’s shift.

Takada sees him enter just before Light does. She glances at Light, then simply says, “Yagami-kun, if you want to leave a little early, that’s all right.”

Light raises an eyebrow at her, but doesn’t object. It’s not going to affect his pay, given that it’s only about—what? Seven minutes, he supposes. He sighs shortly and smiles thinly at her. “All right, Takada-san. I suppose this means I owe you one?”

She waves her hand. “There’s no point. Have a good evening, Yagami-kun.”

She turns and makes her way back behind the counter. He watches her a moment, then grabs his things.

He _does_ consider leaving. He looks back at L, and he considers it a lot. And then he gives into the stupid, L-obsessed portion of him and goes to sit at L’s table.

L seems rather unsurprised. “Good afternoon, Light-kun.”

Light crosses his arms and slumps back. “It’s hardly afternoon, L,” he says.

“Time is a social construct,” L responds dismissively. “How was your shift?”

“Dull, as usual.” Light looks up as he hears Takada’s heels clicking near them.

“Here,” she says, setting a dish before L. She winks at Light, and he pretends not to see. “On the house. We have to get rid of it before we close tonight, so go wild.”

“Thank you,” L says curtly, and Takada retreats again.

Light lets out a short puff of air. “I don’t know why she’s doing that,” he says. “She usually doesn’t care about that stuff, and we have a while before closing as it is.”

“She seems rather taken with you, Light-kun.” L digs into the gifted slice of cake immediately.

“Not as taken as you are with that cake,” Light observes. “But most girls are rather interested in me.”

L hums. “But Light-kun has no interest in them, right?”

Light blinks. “Excuse me?”

If he thinks Light sounds offended, he doesn’t show it. “Well, you’re not.” He takes a slow, contemplative bite of cake. “I’m not stupid, Light-kun.”

Light bristles. “That’s hardly something you just say to people,” he snaps. “You really have no tact, do you?”

“Tact is often lost on people like you,” L says, and the words are ridiculously pleasant for how rude they are.

Light huffs. “I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Light-kun’s motivations are often rather curious,” L reflects. He’s still not even looking at Light.

Light leans forward, pushing his hand against his cheek. “Really?” he asks. “And yours aren’t?”

“I never said that,” L reminds him. He finally looks up to meet Light’s eyes. “Light-kun, would you like to come to England with me?”

Light starts. “Sorry?”

“England,” L repeats. “I’ll be coaching a few children for a couple weeks. I wondered if you were interested in assisting.” He takes another bite of cake. “I was under the impression you don’t have much to do.”

Light feels his shoulders lower again. “Well, I suppose it would depend when,” he says. “I can’t just leave when I have my job to consider.”

L pauses, considering. “Twenty-eight days from today,” he says. “For fifteen days.”

“Is it really appropriate to ask something like that?” Light asks.

“I would consider you a friend,” L says, slowly, deliberately. “Although, I don’t have anyone to compare you to.”

Light studies him for a long moment. “Okay,” he says, shrugging. “I’ll come with you. But that had better mean you’re buying my plane ticket and whatnot.”

“You certainly exploit your friends, don’t you, Light-kun?” His voice sounds only vaguely amused. “But I suppose I can do that. Repayment, since you’re coming at all.”

“It’s not exploitation if it’s you owing me a favour,” Light says. “And, besides, I got you free cake today, too, didn’t I?”

L glances at his mostly empty dish and back to where Takada disappeared to a while before. “I suppose you did. You’ll need to sit with me more often, Light-kun.”

“You don’t usually come this late,” Light points out. “I’m always working while you’re here.”

“I’ll come later, then,” L decides. “Your shift ends at five?”

“Five on Saturdays,” Light says. “Six every other day.”

“That’s not very consistent.”

“It’s consistent if you look at it as a weekly rotation.” Light sighs and leans back again. “But I think it’s relatively improper of you to suggest that I exploit my friends when you’re asking about my work schedule in order to get free cake from Takada because she likes me.”

“Light-kun, have you ever heard of a joke?” L asks seriously.

“Very funny,” Light says. “I have, in fact. I even tell them sometimes.”

L’s lips twitch slightly, but he says nothing. They sit in silence until he has finished his cake, and then they stand and make their way outside.

The summer evening tastes bitterly of the oncoming autumn. Light tries and fails not to shiver at the biting wind.

“Are you cold, Light-kun?” L asks. “You’re walking home, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Light glances sideways at him. “It’s not far, though.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“Huh? You don’t have to do that.” Light flicks a strand of hair out of his hair. “I’m perfectly capable of going home on my own.”

“That’s a strange thing to insist, Light-kun. I may be getting a little suspicious of you.”

Light sighs. “Fine, whatever. Come with me if you want. Isn’t your apartment the other way, though?”

“There’s very little point in going there when there’s nothing to do,” L says.

It’s a fair point, but Light doesn’t exactly think they have anything to discuss. There’s arguably less of a good reason to walk with someone you have no particular business with than going home when there’s nothing to do.

As if to prove Light’s point, they don’t talk on the way back, except for right after they set off, when L wordlessly hands him a sweater.

“Is this yours?” Light asks, but he accepts it and puts it on.

“It’s not that cold, Light-kun,” he says. “Just try not to forget to give it back.”

Light inclines his head to show he understands. After that, they walk on in silence.

Once they reach Light’s house, Light is ready to retire to bed. It must be at least six by now.

“Good night, Light-kun,” L says.

“Night, L,” Light says, already making his way up to the door.

He doesn’t remember L’s sweater until he’s already closed the door and he hears his mother ask from the next room if it’s him.

He hesitates a moment, then responds and comes inside. The sweater—which is very obviously not his—garners him a raised eyebrow from Sayu, but he otherwise receives no reaction.

He doesn’t respond to her look, but he cannot help but feel she’ll ask about it later. She never really has displayed any constraint when it comes to  asking about Light’s life outside of the house. He doesn’t care, not really, especially not anymore, but it certainly has the potential to be rather irksome.

His parents ask after his day over dinner, but they don’t seem particularly interested. Understandable, given his very boring, very regular schedule. He doesn’t talk to them about L. He never has. L seems to exist away from home.

“You were pretty late today, Oniichan,” Sayu remarks. “Were you doing something?”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” Light says, waving a flippant hand.

She narrows her eyes. “Fine. Who gave you the sweater?”

Light doesn’t care if they know he and L are friends—although, Light still isn’t sure if they _are_ —but he can see the slight shine in Sayu’s eyes, and knows she is hoping for some sort of advancement in his romantic life. After all, sharing clothes probably seems pretty romantic in intent, at least to someone like Sayu.

“You wouldn’t believe that, either.”

She groans. “Seriously?”

Light shakes his head. “Do you remember that really famous tennis player?” he asks. “L?”

“Oh, that one you were so obsessed with?” Sayu nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I remember.”

Light scowls. “I wouldn’t say obsessed.”

“But you were.” She pouts. “You always wanted to beat him.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Light sighs. “Anyway, it’s his.”

“The sweater? Huh?” Her eyebrows are furrowed together tightly. “Where’d you get _that_?”

“He doesn’t live that far from here,” Light says, leaning back slightly. “We play tennis together on Fridays.”

“Huh?” Sayu looks to Sachiko, wide-eyed, then back to Light. “We thought you practiced on your own!”

Light laughs shortly. “How would I do that?” he asks. “That would be extremely boring and impractical.”

Sayu is quiet for a moment, and then she says, “But it’s Saturday.”

“So observant of you,” Light says dryly. “He also happens to be a frequent customer. I work in a very convenient location for him.”

“That doesn’t explain the sweater,” Sayu mutters, poking at her food thoughtfully.

“It’s cold.” Light shrugs. “I’m very good at getting things I want, you know.”

She laughs. “Yeah, right. Maybe he likes you!”

“It’s hard not to like me,” Light says, exasperated. “You seem to doubt I have friends.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I mean.”

Light frowns. “I’m pretty sure L’s not gay.”

“Well, I don’t know,” she says, but she is very obviously trying not to laugh at him. “I mean, he has a lot of female fans, right? It’s not like he’s _that_ attractive, so it must be something else, you know?”

“L is attractive,” Light argues. “That’s ridiculous. _You’re_ ridiculous.”

Sayu hums. “Oh? Is he?”

“Sayu,” Sachiko says tiredly, “stop pressuring Light.”

She pouts, but doesn’t say anything else.

The rest of the meal, all Light can really manage to do is scowl at his food. It is one thing, after all, to be friendly with L. It’s an entirely different thing for his younger sister to think L is romantically interested in him.

He really does have L to thank for this entire mess, and then some.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! c:


End file.
